


Storm in the Night

by SparrowFlight246



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Lams (implied), Modern AU, Oneshot, Storms, Thunder - Freeform, Washingdad, Workplace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 17:14:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11361954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparrowFlight246/pseuds/SparrowFlight246
Summary: Alexander and Washington are working late when a storm strikes.Alexander is reminded of some not-so-pleasant experiences while Washington goes into dad mode.





	Storm in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> A just for fun one-shot ;) 
> 
> Enjoy!

Washington had always quite liked the rain. 

He enjoyed the quiet, the peace of the pattering upon his roof. The thunder made a wonderful background for a particularly good book, and, if you were lucky enough, being able to watch the dark clouds roll in was a beautiful sight. He always thought fondly of the way the world was washed clean after a storm, the way everything was fresh and new and wet as the clouds cleared and the crisp smell of rain wafted through the wind.

Of course, none of these things were specifically on his mind even as it began sprinkling outside as he bent over his desk, thumbing through a document about some ridiculous claim or something of the sort. It was so late into the night, he had stopped comprehending what he was reading quite a bit ago. But quitting now would result in the daunting pile of papers going unfinished for yet another day, the idea of which he was not fond of.

However, as he blinked himself awake and spared a glance towards the boy working beside him, he appeared to be the only one struggling with the idea of sleep. The young man was wide awake and bright eyed, typing furiously on his laptop. His shoulder length, dark hair was pulled back into a formerly neat bun, which had become more and more disheveled as the day had gone on. 

“Are you doing alright, Alex?” Washington asked, suppressing a yawn. “It’s getting quite late.”

Not looking away from his computer screen, Alexander nodded quickly. His fingers flew over the keyboard. “Fine, sir.”

Sighing for no particular reason, Washington returned to his work. It was right about then that the rain picked up from a gentle, barely noticeable sprinkle to a moderate downpour. 

Washington didn't mind. The steady sound of rain made the quiet atmosphere settled over the nearly deserted office more bearable. Because everyone else had the sense to go home at a reasonable hour, Washington and Alexander were alone in the limited light. This wasn't a particularly uncommon situation for them, of course, considering Alexander was practically nocturnal and Washington would do what was necessary for the day’s work to be completed. 

After some time, Washington noticed the rain was becoming heavier, probably a slow-brewing storm making its appearance. He failed to notice, at the time, that Alexander’s hands had begun shaking over the keyboard, however.

It was brought to his attention when he caught the small movement out of the corner of his eye. Subtly watching Alexander’s hands tremble as he clicked away at the keys, Washington decided to not bring it up. Best not to embarrass the boy. No, he wasn't completely sure why Alexander was acting like this, what was bothering him, but he voted to ignore the behavior for now.

The rain continued to worsen as the two men worked in silence. Thunder also began to make an appearance, clapping through the night and radiating through the building, as lightning struck outside and lit up the room for a split second. It was in one of these instances that Washington realized Alexander was jumping every time thunder clapped. 

In his peripheral vision, Washington could see the young man flinching hard at each eruption of sound from the sky. His fingers were shaking so badly he had to stop typing, instead holding his trembling hands in his lap and staring at the computer screen, most likely pretending to think or reread his work. 

Alexander’s knee started bouncing some time into the storm as well. Afraid of embarrassing or, even worse and quite likely, scaring him away (it had taken quite a while for Washington to reach this level of trust already, he was terrified of breaking it), Washington stayed silent. Yes, he had to bite his tongue to make sure he didn't say anything when the boy’s entire body began violently trembling, but he still did it. 

What bothered him the most was he wasn't sure what was going on with the young man, or how he could fix it. He had known Alexander for years, been there to see the spritely, small teenager grow into a mature young man. Hell, he had even attended the young man’s wedding, watched him pretend not to be crying as his future husband by the name of John Laurens walked down the aisle. Even Washington had pretended not to cry as he saw the boys he had watched grow up be forever bonded together.

He tried to think back to an occasion that he would have seen Alexander during a storm. He had to have been with the boy as thunder clapped sometime, right? But, as he shuffled through memories with or at the office that included storming, there wasn't a single instance that Alexander had been there. He had excused himself to the bathroom and hadn't come out for an unusually long time, or taken his lunch break, or even called in sick on days that it was forecasted to storm badly and for the majority of the day. This was the first time Washington had been by the boy’s side as the world was lit up with the electric, blinding light of lightning. 

But, Washington attempted to console himself, Alexander would say something to the older man on the occasion that he needed something or if something was bothering him, right?

Suddenly, the day that Alexander had fractured his ankle coming into work and neglected to tell anyone about it, instead limping into the office, settling into a chair immediately and refusing to move for the entire day until he was forced to get up to go home and ended up collapsing with a yelp because the broken ankle was too painful and swollen to withstand weight, was pulled to the front of Washington’s mind. 

Wrong. So, so wrong.

A sudden clap of thunder and lightning shattered across the silence. A muffled, terrified sob ripped from Alexander. 

By that point, Washington had given up on trying to let the boy have his space. He turned to the young man immediately, swiveling in his chair with concern written across his features. 

“Alexander. Alexander, are you alright?”

“Yes, sir,” Alexander said, his voice breaking as another clap of thunder exploded from the sky, biting his lip against another sob. 

Washington melted, getting up and pushing his chair out of the way so he could kneel before Alexander. Now, sitting right in front of the boy, Washington could see his wide, terrified eyes and frantic expression. 

“Alex. Shh, son.”

“I’m not your-”

“I know, Alex, you're not my son. You’ve told me enough times. But I don't really care at the moment.”

Alexander gripped the armrests of his chair until his knuckles turned white, swallowing hard against the clear panic brewing inside him. As a gust of wind rocked the building, his breath hitched audibly in his throat.

“Hey, breathe. You’re okay, son. I promise, you’re safe.” Washington settled a gentle hand on the boy’s knee, stabilizing the young man’s panic.

“I-I know,” Alexander stuttered, taking a shaky breath and unclenching his fingers from around the armrests to put his face in his hands. “This… this happens a lot. I don't like people seeing me when it does, so usually I try to avoid these types of situations.”

“I’m sorry, son, but why?” Washington’s tone was hushed. “Why do you get so tense during storms? How can I help you?”

Alexander shook his head, lowering his hands but letting out a slight, involuntary yelp when thunder clapped again. “You can't, sir. When I was seventeen, back in Nevis, a hurricane ripped through everything. It destroyed my town, my friends, my life.” He let out a mirthless laugh. “I wrote about it, and that's how I got here. But, ten years later, and storms still scare the shit out of me.”

Lightning lit up the room again, throwing Washington’s empathetic, faintly horrified expression into sharp relief for a fraction of a moment. “You should have told me, Alexander.”

“You really think I walk around advertising the fact that I’m a grown man and still go into a panic when it thunders?” Alexander said with sudden sharpness, then another sudden sob racked his body as a gust of rain slammed against a window. “I’m sorry, sir. It's just… only John has seen me during storms. I don't let anyone else, and I don't know how to react to it.”

Carefully, Washington helped Alexander down to the ground beside him. The two men sat side by side against the wall, Washington not touching Alexander but yearning to in a desperate attempt to console the boy. 

“You’re alright, Alexander,” Washington murmured. “You’re safe now. I’m here, son.”

Alexander pulled his knees to his chest, taking in a shuddering breath. “I know, sir.”

As the wind howled exceptionally loud, Alexander hid his face behind his knees with another sob. Washington, before he knew what he was doing, had his arms around Alexander and was rocking the boy gently. 

“Shh, son,” he soothed quietly, Alexander, surprisingly, unprotesting to the contact. He leaned his head into Washington’s shoulder, still silently crying, the two men sitting in quiet as the storm screamed just outside.

It was maybe an hour later that Washington noticed the howling wind was beginning to die down. The rain faded, the thunder coming more sparingly and with greater time between each earth-shattering sound. 

Smiling into the darkness, Washington rested his chin upon Alexander’s head. “Son? I think the storm has stopped,” he whispered.

Alexander, who had stopped crying some time ago but had yet to move, pulled away slightly. He glanced toward a window to see the rain had slowed significantly.

“Has it?” he asked quietly. His face flushed red in embarrassment. “I’m sorry about this, sir.”

Washington shushed Alexander’s apologies immediately. “Son, there was no place I’d rather be.”

Alexander leaned back against Washington with a sigh. “Thank you, sir.”

It was soon after the conversation ceased that Washington realized Alexander had fallen asleep. Washington quietly thanked God that the boy had finally gotten some sleep, even though there was probably better places than the floor of the office to finally slip off. 

Carefully, Washington pulled away from Alexander, instead picking the small boy up and carrying him to the break room couch. The young man stayed asleep even as Washington quietly turned on the coffee machine for the soon future, walking back to his desk to begin readying himself for the day in front of him. His clock read 5:04 am as he settled in his chair, continuing the work he had forgotten during the storm. Washington remained there as the sunset bloomed out the window behind him, as his workers began entering the office, shooting puzzled looks at his disheveled appearance but asking no questions. 

And did it matter to Washington that Alexander was absolutely livid that the older man had gotten no sleep at all so the boy would be able to catch a few hours, that Alexander had gotten the break room couch while Washington worked?

Hell no, it didn't matter. 

All that Washington cared about was the fact Alexander was okay enough to be livid in the first place.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and pretty please leave a comment and/or kudos if you enjoyed! Also, if you find a mistake, don't be afraid to let me know! 
> 
> Thanks!


End file.
